


A Summer Worth Remembering

by felofHe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Study, Established Relationship, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, F/M, Gen, Non-Canon Relationship, Road Trips, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-16 08:55:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14808221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felofHe/pseuds/felofHe
Summary: This is a fic exploring, developing, and hopefully realizng well my favorite non-canon relationship in all of Harry Potter: Luna and Neville. It's told from Neville's perspective, but it's really a story about both of them and how they get to know each other. I'm not sure exactly where I want to go with it, but the basic plot is gonna be: Neville and Luna coincidentally decide to take trips through Europe after Book 7, bump into each other, and then Luna decides to join Neville on his trip to Assyria to see his great-uncle Algie and learn some Herbology from him. A good chunk will be their train trip across Europe, and I'm not sure what's gonna happen when they get to Assyria (Iraq to us Muggles), but I hope you'll join me for the ride.





	1. After the Battle

**Author's Note:**

> This is directly after the events of Deathly Hallows and way before the epilogue/Cursed Child. Just to orient us with where Neville is mentally. Includes a few special cameos. Enjoy. :)

Neville Longbottom stared at the bloodied sword at his side. Even after everything, he still couldn’t believe that it fell out if the Sorting Hat and thus allowed him to destroy Voldemort’s last remaining Horcrux, the snake Nagini. Honestly, he couldn’t even believe that he had swung the blow, it almost seemed like the sword swung his arms. He knew that it was a moment which would change his life forever. Already he was beginning to sense it. Every two seconds or so, some cheering person, half-drunk on butterbeer (an accomplishment in itself, it must be said) would come up and slap him on the back and yell some variation of “That was amazing, mate!” in his ear. At first he smiled and thanked them profusely, he even let them sit by him while he ate and chatted with them, but now, sitting half-hunched at the normally Gryffindor House table surrounded by students and teachers and adults of all Houses alike, he was just tired and slightly annoyed with all of the compliments. He just remained silent, stared at the sword, and kept his eyes on it even as their a-bit-too-hard slap on the back jolted him forward. His back was actually starting to hurt now that he thought about it, never mind the countless other injuries he had sustained both before and during the battle at the hands of the Carrows, Crabbe, Goyle, and various other Death Eaters. Plus his hair was somewhat burned due to the Sorting Hat having been on set on fire by Voldemort before Neville’s moment of triumph. He wasn’t even sure if the Sorting Hat survived its ignition. The thought worried him but he was too tired to want to do anything about it. In short, Neville looked, felt, and otherwise resembled, a mess.

  
The congratulating crowd had started to thin out. Neville had recognized this and so decided to take it as a sign to get up and go to bed. The fact that many of his friends were lying dead at the other end of the Great Hall wasn’t making him feel any better about the present situation. He got up, grabbed the sword and tucked it inside his rather worse for wear robes. He was just passing out of the Great Hall when he heard a voice behind him.

  
“Neville!” called a soft, musical voice.

  
Neville turned and saw Luna Lovegood coming, pushing her way through the crowd towards him. He put on the widest smile he could muster.

  
“Hi Luna,” he said when she had reached him, “I was just about to head up to bed. You can walk with me if you want.”

  
“Okay.” she said knowingly.

 

“Nice job with the Blibbering Humdinger there.” Neville said with a chuckle.

  
Luna chuckled with him, “Can I let you in on a secret?” she said mischievously.

  
“Of course.”

  
“There wasn’t really one there, although I would be very happy if there were, but truthfully Harry just wanted a distraction so he could have some time to himself.”

  
Neville nodded understandingly, “Wish you were next to me towards the end of my meal. I could’ve used a distraction.”

  
Luna looked at him slyly, “How many times do you honestly think I can make people look for things that aren’t there?”

  
“Oh, I believe you could convince anyone that there’s a Wrackspurt in their vicinity any time, in any place.” Neville said.

 

“There’s actually one floating right behind you.” Luna said quite seriously. “I saw the light shift for a split second.”

  
Neville looked at Luna oddly but she turned from him and kept walking. Now Neville felt a kind of sickness in him. He thought about how Luna seriously believed in such things as Wrackspurts and Blibbering Humdingers and Crumple Horned Snorkacks and he thought about how even though Hermione said they didn’t exist and that he had certainly never seen any of those things for himself, Luna was one of the most honest and unbreakable people he’d ever met and he was starting to doubt his own intuition. Luna had that effect on people. During his time in his seventh year at Hogwarts, keeping the D.A. alive under the Carrows’ noses with primarily Ginny and Luna’s help, he had heard more than a few members of the D.A., both returning and new, talk quietly about how Luna freaked them out. Yet they couldn’t help but think of her as one of the strongest people they had ever seen. Neville walked on with her, still looking at her, unsure.

 

“Can I talk to you about something?” Luna asked.

  
“Anything at all,” Neville said, “that’s what friends are for.”

  
Luna smiled at him and said, “I know you’ve probably heard this as many times as Harry, but that really was an amazing thing you did out there.”

  
“Honestly, I’m not sure how much of it was me.” Neville said earnestly, “This thing,” he drew out the sword (Luna took a quarter step away) “really seemed like it knew what it needed to do, it seemed like all I really did was hold it. It was one of the strangest moments of my life.”

  
“I’m not just talking about the snake, you and Ron taking down Greyback, the armfuls of Venomous Tentacula, taking those beatings for hours at a time. That’s rare in a person.”

  
“Okay firstly,” Neville said, “Ron was helping with Greyback, plus Greyback didn’t have a wand so it was almost too easy. Second, Venomous Tentacula is really easy to handle if you know how to. And thirdly, Seamus was more busted up then I was, and I really don’t think the amount of scarring we’ll have on our faces really counts as an achievement.”

  
“Okay then, what about going to the Room of Requirement when you were trying to run away from the Slytherins and Carrows. You need some imagination to think of something as brilliant as that.”

  
“That was all the Room, all I asked it to do was give me a good place to hide.”

  
“Fred and George did the same thing, Ginny told me, and all it turned into for them was a broom cupboard. You are something special, Neville.”

  
“I know you believe that,” Neville said solemnly, “I want to believe it too, but the fact is, I had help for all of it. The Sorting Hat, Ron, Professor Sprout, whoever enchanted the Room. I’m only a person who helps other people do things. I just take all of the credit because I did more of it. All I am is lucky.”

  
“Come off it!” said Luna, “Even Dumbledore said you had something special. First year, remember?”

  
“Yes, and it was all because Hermione put a Full-Body Bind on me when I wouldn’t let them go fight Voldemort. That was just pigheadedness.”

  
“No, it wasn’t. Hermione told me how you talked about worrying that they would get Gryffindor in trouble again and lose more points. You were taking pride in and defending your House, even if your friends weren’t going to let you stop them. That really is bravery, Neville. You represented the value of your House. That’s why Dumbledore gave you those points, Neville. Bravery, not stupidity.”

  
“You’d be surprised how often those two ideas can be applied to the same action.” Neville said glumly.

  
“I don’t care, Neville. And apparently, neither does the spirit of Godric Gryffindor. After all, you’re holding his sword.”

  
“Again, if it wasn’t for the Sorting Hat, Voldemort would’ve killed me after the Hat burned out. And if his charm hadn’t broken, I’d have died unable to even try anything. It’s all luck. Sheer dumb luck.”

  
Luna stopped talking. They’d arrived at the Fat Lady’s portrait, but she was not in it, so someone had helpfully propped it with a stool. Luna looked at Neville blankly.

  
“Well, if you say so.” she finally said, before floating away without another word, leaving Neville feeling guilty and sad, but he climbed through the portrait hole, taking care to not tip the stool over. Upon entering, he found Hermione and Ron asleep on the couch, his head upon hers upon his shoulder. Neville tiptoed as quietly as he could past them and creeped up the stairs to the dormitory. He sat on his bed with the sword across his lap, staring at it for a while, until Harry crept in as well, with a weary smile on his face. He was halfway across the dormitory before he noticed Neville.

  
“Oh, hullo, Neville.” He said, exhaustion unhidden in his voice.

  
“Hiya, Harry. You sound like hell.”

  
“Oh, I know. But I’m actually okay for now.”

  
“Really?”

  
“Yeah. Fixed my wand.” He held it up.

  
“Really? I honestly didn’t even know you’d broken it.”

  
“Yeah. Long story, but I used Malfoy’s to stop Voldemort.”

  
“Wow. That’s cool!” Neville noted that he didn’t unconsciously flinch when he heard the name anymore.

  
“Yup. So now I’m feeling like I’m whole again.”

  
“Good feeling.” Neville chuckled.

  
“Yup. See you’ve got yourself a new toy.” Harry chuckled.

  
“I guess so.” Neville patted the pommel of the sword. “It is what it is.”

  
“What it is,” Harry said, a bit more seriously, “is one of the most powerful objects in magic. You should be careful with it, and also proud to own it. Means you’re a true Gryffindor, my friend. Dumbledore told me that after it fell on my head second year.”

  
“Whoa, really?”

  
“Yeah? Didn’t I ever tell you that I used it to kill the Basilisk?”

  
“No!”

  
“Oh. Well, I did. That’s the only reason why it could kill the snake. Basilisk venom’s one of the few things that could’ve and the sword’s goblin-made, so it absorbed that when I stabbed the basilisk in the roof of its mouth.”

  
“That’s crazy!” Neville said, reverting to his pre-5th year shock and awed self.

  
“I guess.” Harry said, laying back on his bed. “But it’s yours now.”

  
Neville stared down at it. “I feel even more honored now that I know what it’s been through.”

  
Harry smiled. Neville turned to him.

  
“Harry, mate, can I ask you a weird question?”

  
“Go for it.”

  
“What’s it gonna be like now? Being famous and all that? I’ve already gotten more praise than I ever wanted tonight and it’s only gonna increase. How do you do it?”

  
“Mostly I just learn to not listen or notice when people whisper and stare.”

  
“Well, for someone who’s only ever been the object of stares of ridicule, that’s gonna be different.”

  
“Yup, but it’s not so bad after a while.”

  
“Thanks, mate. What’s your take on all this?”

  
“Well...I think you’ve done something extraordinary, and you deserve to be thanked for it. You certainly saved me.”

  
“How?”

  
“Distraction. And you killed the last thing keeping Voldemort from dying, so thanks.”

  
“...No problem. But it was all luck, and planning on your part. If you hadn’t told me what to do, I’d’ve stood there while the hat burned my head off.”

  
“Yeah, but everything I’ve done has been luck too, so I’ve just come to decide that luck, whatever that means, is kind of the story of life.”

  
“But...where does that leave me? I’m no one special.”

  
“Maybe that’s life trying to tell you that you are, Neville.”

  
Neville sat silently for a while. “Thanks, Harry…”

  
He put the sword in his trunk, Stuck its lid on, and got into bed. Harry watched him while he did so and smiled knowingly before falling deeply asleep. Neville lay awake for several hours before he did the same.


	2. Frothshore and beyond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now we get into where the real story begins. Please enjoy. :)

Months passed. The castle was cleaned, funerals were held (more than Neville cared to think about), the Ministry got back on its feet, new laws were passed, Azkaban was rebuilt, life went on still. Neville, for one, had no idea what his future held for him. He was still living with Gran and spent his days mostly doing household chores, although he’d noticed that Gran seemed to have significantly cut back on his chore load. He’d tried to do some of his usual things but often Gran just shooed him off. She didn’t really give a reason, she just said, “Neville, give over! I’ll handle this.” and waved him away. Before this year he’d have thought it was because she was worried he’d cause some catastrophe, but he knew she knew that didn’t happen anymore. He also knew that she did it because she was still treating him like a hero, and that heroes didn’t do chores in her mind. It was dumb, but he didn’t argue, because she had lived long enough that he wasn’t going to try and change her mind.

He’d found that all this free time could be a bore. He’d long ago finished reading all of his books and his friends’ letters didn’t come often enough to provide continuous entertainment all day, so he’d taken to walking in the woods outside the house. There at least, some things were always changing, if you knew where to look. Sometimes there was a new colony of ants just beside the trail that he’d watch for a while, or a baby deer would be seen just past that thicket, then he’d sit and watch over it while it waited for the mother to return.

But most often he would go looking for plants. Herbology was always his favorite and best subject at Hogwarts and he loved the diversity and yet incredible simplicity of plants, magical and not. The woods were teeming with life. There were Flitterblooms and dandelions, and Welshman’s Folly and Merlin’s Mustache and clover. It was a paradise to Neville, who had spent the past month and a half examining and observing them all as they grew. He was especially fond of the small stream that flowed down towards the Muggle village of Frothshore, an ironic name as its only shore was along the creek, which was still so small even there that they hadn’t even thought to name it. Oddly, during his semi-frequent trips to the village, he’d never noticed any magical plants growing in it. He’d decided one day that he was going to follow the creekbed home one particular day and found that magical plants only started growing after the first tree crossed its path which was at the edge of the wood. Neville thought that was strange, but it meant that no Muggles would accidentally stumble upon it in the village and that was a good thing. Past the tree, however, the creek was actually one of the most active spots for magical plants in the whole woods. Besides the standard moss and rivergrass, there were also lily livers, which had liver-shaped flowers that bloomed only when submerged and were an effective spice and circulation-improver, key to the Pepperup Potion. He also found some kappa spittle, a curious little bud that secreted a spitlike fluid that was wonderful at freshening breath and as a soap. Neville had learned since his discovery of it that sometimes children in heavily wizard populated towns would make a drink of kappa spittle and water and sell it to wizards almost like Muggle children did with lemonade. Neville himself took a drink from that particular section of the stream every chance he got. He’d even found a very small curve in the creek where gillyweed grew. This wonderfully valuable plant had the ability to turn one a fish-human hybrid, with gills and flippers and fins. He remembered fondly in his fourth year when Harry had used it to compete in the Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament. He himself had no use for the plant and, though it was valuable, felt no need to sell it and destroy this little unique treasure. On this particular day, though, he was feeling rather down. Not even a drink of kappa spittle was helping. He just felt excruciatingly bored and unsatisfied. He decided to go back to his room.

“Oh, Neville, you’re back early.” Gran said as he entered through the kitchen door.

“Got bored for some reason.” He said ruefully.

“Well, I’m making bangers and mash for dinner tonight. I’ll be serving in about half an hour.”

“Kay, Gran, thanks for letting me know.” He turned and walked up the stairs to his bedroom.

His mimbulus mimbletonia was the first thing he saw as he entered. He’d received it in the summer before his fifth year at Hogwarts from his great-uncle Algie. Incredibly rare, it was often described as resembling a cactus with large boils instead of spines. It was often used by Healers to help animals as it secreted Stinksap when prodded correctly. Once small enough to be contained in a simple flowerpot, it had grown to be about 4 feet tall and 2 feet wide and had to be contained in a planter. Neville, having never been incredibly fond of animals, had had no use for it except to let it grow. And it still held some sentimental value to him as it was from his great-uncle and had been the source of the now fairly large colony of mimbulus mimbletonia growing in the Hogwarts greenhouses. His own toad Trevor was sitting on top of it now, his rear end pointing at Neville. Peering around slightly, Neville found that the toad was licking drops of Stinksap from a boil that was secreting a tiny flow. The Sword of Gryffindor hung over the right side of his bed, which was nestled up against the wall, behind the door. His wardrobe stood in the far left corner, with the trunk on its left, open and empty save for some old books and his wand, which he saw no need to carry around with him. His open window in the far right corner let in a nice breeze and threw a somewhat creepy shadow over the mimbulus and Trevor on top of it.

“Hey, Trevor.” Neville said to the toad.

Trevor hopped forward in apparent surprise, landing on another arm of the mimbulus, which then sprayed a few small jets of Stinksap from the boils on that arm.

Neville smiled. He and Trevor had never really been the best of friends. In fact, Trevor had seemed to devote all of their time together to escaping from Neville forever. Problem was, he was neither a very good hider, nor willing to move very far. So he’d spent these past seven years under Neville’s wary care.

“I see you’re feeling happy as ever.” Neville said. He didn’t bother to clean up the Stinksap on the floor. It didn’t make the floor sticky and in fact, it even seemed to harden it. This coupled with the fact that he knew that there’d always be more Stinksap to clean up, led Neville to just ignore it and let it dry.

“I could use some advice now, my little green friend.” Neville knew that Trevor could give none, but felt comforted by the notion that he could talk to something that may understand somehow.

“I don’t know what I want to do with my life.” Neville began, “I’ve got no career prospects, unless being famous counts, which it doesn’t because I don’t want to be famous. I don’t know what I want to do, I’m not good at anything. My only interest is plants, but I don’t want to be a Healer. I’m just restless, I guess. There’s nothing for me here. What do I do?”

Trevor had returned to licking Stinksap from a different boil that was closer to him and didn’t appear to be listening.

“Well, you’re no help.” Neville said ruefully, yet he continued to watch. For what reason, he never really remembered, but what he did remember was that suddenly it all became clear. Trevor was sitting on top of a mimbulus mimbletonia, a very rare plant from Assyria, where his great-uncle Algie lived in the summer and it was great-uncle Algie who’d bought him both Trevor and the mimbulus. His great-uncle Algie had as much of a passion for plants as he did, and had seemed to always take great interest in helping Neville out, even if it was possibly dangerous to Neville. It all clicked.

Neville charged down the stairs, almost tripping on the last step, which was slightly below its neighbor, like he always did, and banged the kitchen door open.

“Neville, dear, what’s the matter?!” Gran exclaimed.

Slightly out of breath, Neville said, “I want… to go and live with great-uncle Algie for a while.”


	3. Saying Goodbye

As Neville predicted, Algie’s letter came back quickly and enthusiastically upon the leg of Gran’s owl, Lightwing, a proud Great Horned who was also known for being lazy and rather pompous, but when he heard of his assignment his tufts perked up excitedly, like the prospect of going to Assyria excited him as much as it did Neville. Upon his return, he almost seemed sad that he was back so soon.

Algie’s letter was written in a fast stroke, yet was perfectly readable:

“ _Dearest Neville,_

_I am absolutely delighted that you wish to spend some time with me here in Assyria, or as the Muggles call it, Iraq. The weather is lovely, a bit hot perhaps for you, having never, to my knowledge, left the UK. But it is perfect for growing all sorts of magical plant life and the small pond in my backyard is teeming with even more species. I’m glad you thought of me first when you decided to, I presume at least, continue studying the wonderful art of Herbology. There are many other sights, smells and wonders to behold here in Assyria, however, if you do  desire to devote your time to Herbology education. Please send Lightwing back with your planned date and time of arrival. I await him with utmost excitement._

_Your beloved uncle,_

_**Algie**_ ”

“You’re sure this is what you want to do, Neville? My brother is a very different man than his letters or your brief visits with him may lead you to believe. He has his…differences.” Gran had agreed to the trip, but she was rather hesitant.

“I’m sure.” Neville said confidently, “Herbology is the only thing that excites me anymore and there’s no one I’d rather have teaching me the ins and outs of it.”

“Don’t forget, though, Neville, this is the same man who nearly drowned you by pushing you off of Blackpool Pier and also hung you out of a window, dropped you and could’ve killed you.”

“True. But he didn’t, I’ll be able to handle him just fine, Gran. I’m a grown man now, I’ll be able to handle him.”

Unexpectedly, Gran started crying.

“Oh, but Neville, I don’t want you to be a man. I remember when you were only a little tiny cherub and your parents brought you to see me for the first time and Frank-,” she paused. It was still difficult for her to talk about what had happened to Neville’s mother and father. “Well anyway, you started growing up so fast after Marcus died, and you’ve done and seen so much. I’m missing you already.” She threw her arms around him.

“It’ll be alright, Gran. Granddad dying was sad, sure, and what happened to mum and dad was worse, but you’ll make it, like you always have. Besides, I won’t be leaving you forever. I’ll be back with Uncle Algie at the end of summer, when he comes back for his usual visit. And I’ll write too, every week.”

“Just be careful, Neville darling. I may have been rather strict with you when you were younger, but I wanted to drive you forward, to get you through the obstacle of me so you could get through any obstacle you wanted.”

“I see that now, Gran, and I’m grateful. Now I’m going to pass this obstacle, and I know it won’t be easy, but I’ll be okay.”

Due to the high failure rate of long distance Apparition, and the all-too-quick journey of Floo Powder, Neville wanted to take the train to Assyria. He wanted to go out and get some sense of the Wizarding world outside of Britain and Floo Powder, though convenient, did not exactly give one a sense of travel. Simply put, Floo Powder allowed one to travel from one fireplace to another quickly and efficiently. However, it required stepping into roaring flames, which Neville was in no hurry to do after the Sorting Hat, which he had also learned had survived its flagration, but now bore a distinctive burned leather smell. Regardless of his past, the train was the most attractive option for Neville and he had no second thoughts after he decided.

After sending Lightwing back with Neville’s reply and then on a quick trip to King’s Cross station in London with 20 Galleons in a sack for his ticket and documentations, he was set for arrival in Assyria on August the 24th, three weeks from Lightfoot’s return. His train out of London left on the fifth, which he set up to give himself time to pack and make sure Gran would be okay. The packing was easy enough. In fact, all he had to do was lay his things out, let Gran say a simple spell and all of his possessions flew into the trunk neatly. Gran also charmed a bag with an Undetectable Expansion Charm for his mimbulus, as well as helping it to stay upright while in transit. They also decided, after a bit of deliberation, to set it up so that Trevor could go inside without dying of lack of food or water, but also not get lost somewhere along the way. He spent the last day with Gran, going out to the village and simply talking and having fun for the whole day. It was a good way to leave Britain. The morning he was due to leave, Gran made his favorite breakfast (kippers and eggs), kissed him at least four times and then walked with him to the Frothshore train station, which would link up to London. It was a tearful goodbye, but it would be alright, he knew.

He had brought along his favorite Herbology books to pass the time and help him learn in Assyria, and after realizing that Britain looked very similar between Frothshore and London, pulled out one of his favorites, _Magical Water Plants of The Mediterranean_. Despite its being given to him by a Death Eater impersonating Mad-Eye Moody, it was still a comprehensive and fascinating book, so he was glad he had it, no matter its origins. It was so comprehensive, in fact, that despite having read it numerous times, he still only managed to get a third of the way through by the time he reached London. Once there, it was a simple matter of getting onto the magical train platform named 9¾. This platform had only ever taken him to Hogwarts before now, but it was also the main hub of Wizarding transport in Britain. All international trains went through it before going on Muggle trains for other business in the country. His train was going to France for the first part of his journey, and that train left at 3. The Muggle train had arrived at 1:30, so he continued to read on the platform. No one would disturb him, as he was not the only one reading, although he was probably the only one with an advanced Herbology textbook.

He had been sitting for a while, when suddenly,

“Neville!!” a voice said.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. I'm gonna post the chapters I have already written weekly until I run out. If you have stuff you want to see, please leave a comment with suggestions. Thanks again. :)


End file.
